


Different Valleys

by TheUTAUNerd



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:18:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUTAUNerd/pseuds/TheUTAUNerd
Summary: Some angsty Deceit.Based on the song Different Valleys - Marcus Abbott





	Different Valleys

Another Monday. 

Another hell. 

Another plane of being. 

Another lie. 

Another fight. 

Another round. 

Another cycle. 

Another dream. 

Another nightmare. 

Another reality. 

Another day of pain.

It was loud.

It was deafening.

It was crowded. 

It was strangling. 

It was too much. 

It was all consuming. 

Monday.

Hell. 

Plane. 

Lie.

Fight.

Round. 

Cycle.

Dream.

Nightmare.

Reality.

Pain.

Loud. 

Deafening.

Crowded. 

Strangling.

Much.

Consuming.

Monday.

Hell. 

Plane. 

Lie.

Fight.

Round. 

Cycle.

Dream.

Nightmare.

Reality.

Pain.

Loud. 

Deafening.

Crowded. 

Strangling.

Much.

Consuming.

As these thoughts swirled around his head, he felt it. He felt the pull of the puppet strings, the smirk of the demons in control. He felt their deepest, darkest desires. It was another round, another day of fighting, of lying to those he loved the most. Another day of hell and pain and the all-consuming agony of his dreams, his nightmares, his reality! And he knew that this was not a war he could win. It was an unfair game with the demons in full control. 

All he wanted was to disappear, for it all to be over. 

And he felt the pull of the darkness once again, and succumbed to its addictive nature, his exhaustion.

Without realising, he’d let himself fall, he’d let himself lose once again. He couldn’t win this one. And he doubted he’d ever win a single battle in this game of life, of death, of solitude, of agony, of longing, of fear. He was petrified, though they could never know. What would they think of him if they did? They’d know the truth. That he was a failure. That he couldn’t even hold on for a single day. He couldn’t handle it. The only reason he could derive from the daily reset was because they still loved to torture him. They didn’t care about him. He was a toy to them, a toy that he hoped one day they’d tired of. However, he also feared what they’d do to him if they ever did. Toss him in the abyss for eternity? Kill him outright? Possible but unlikely.

But he could dream. 

It was dark in here, but if he fought hard enough, he could at least see them. He could see them happy, and he would know that he had protected them, even if they didn’t/ It was enough for him to know that they were out of harm’s way in their own time, instead of being in this never-ending loop of a Monday that went on and on for all of eternity. He was in a different world to them, and it was enough for him to know that he could walk down the stairs and see them, laughing and smiling. The four men he loved. Those he’d die protecting from the lies that threatened to break free every single time he opened his mouth. His existence was a deep,dark depression from which no one could ever break free.

He lived every day, longing to see tomorrow. 

Longing for a day that would no longer be a Monday, stuck in the shadows of his own thoughts. 

He longed for a Tuesday, a day where he could at least say a quick hello when passing on the hallway. 

He longed for a Wednesday of small talk, of playful banter and light teasing in the name of joy and companionship.

He longed for a Thursday, a day of small hugs, pats on the back and reassurances that he wasn’t the storybook villain.

He longed for a Friday of laughter, of confidence and light and a day of him finally feeling okay, of him finally feeling loved and wanted. 

He longed for a Saturday of chaste kisses, of bashful compliments and uneasy pet names, the loving encounters that came with a first relationship.

He longed for a Sunday of cuddling, of comfort and of love, true unabashed, requited love.

But here he was. Monday. And it would no doubt stay Monday for a very long time. Because no matter what he did and how hard he tried, he and them were on different planes. 

Because he and them were in distant valleys, never to align.


End file.
